What being “Pilbara-ised” means to me …

Last night I went to the local pub for a drink to celebrate a friend’s birthday.  I wore heels … gorgeous black and white satin heels.  It seemed like a great idea at the time … but after an hour (ok five minutes) it just made me feel sore and awkward.  And it got me thinking about what it means to be “Pilbara-ised”.  My girlfriend and I laughed at the fact that all we wanted to do was go home and take off our heels … we laughed at the fact that we would rather be wearing thongs … or worse still, steel capped boots.  OMG who am I?  And what happened to the girl that moved here nearly 2 years ago?

To explain where I came from, I’ll quote a sentence or two from the “about” section of my blog … which given the events of the past 2 years, perhaps needs to be brought a little more up to date!

I love champagne, cocktails, anything sparkly, stilettos are my best friend and I wouldn’t be caught dead in tracksuit pants.  I only drive automatics and need my nails done every second Saturday.  My mobile phone is as much a fashion accessory as it is a method of keeping in touch with friends and family … and I need at least 2 take away coffees a day just to keep the bitchiness at bay.

Now, add to this … would not leave the house without a full face of make up, would never be caught dead wearing a hat of any description, had to wear a huge assortment of jewellery on every finger, arm, neck, wrist available at all times and I think you should just about get the picture …

Fast forward nearly two years and here I am … I haven’t worn stilettos in who knows how long (I didn’t even wear them on my wedding day … yes I know there are red stilettos in the photos, but I only put them on for the photos, I was really wearing ballet flats – oh oh secret’s out!), I no longer have acrylic nails, I love my Akubra hat, I only wear a watch and only put my engagement & wedding rings on to “go out” (you know, to Woolies and stuff), I have a coffee machine at home (no take aways here) and I OWN A MANUAL CAR – yep, remember how good I am at driving them?  I do still like make up, but don’t wear anywhere near as much as I used to.   Oh how times have changed!

I did love getting all glammed up for my wedding day … I got eyelash extensions and at least an hour’s worth of face paint.  I loved every second of it, every second in my gorgeous pair of ivory ballet flats 😉

Now Mr W. would argue that there are definitely still some “city princess” traits lingering … like the fact that I HATE it when he drives with the window open … 10 hours of wind is not good for my hair, hence I have to take my Fiorucci Scarf on long trips to ensure my hair stays tangle free … it’s more about the knot factor than the actual asthetics, trust me.  I still have designer handbags (didn’t you know that Oroton goes really well with black thongs?).  But given the fact that I would now rather squat on the side of the road rather than use some road house toilets*, even he would have to agree that I’ve come along way!

pp xx

* Remind me to tell you a really funny story about using the side of the road as my personal restroom … trust me, it’s a good one!

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Kiss My Ass

Today started like any other day when Mr W. is not working … lying in bed having idle chit chat while watching Kochie & Mel on Sunrise (and Mr W. wishing that Sam Armytage was back on – he has a serious crush on that woman).  Except every time I went to get close to Mr W. he would duck his head away.  At one point he disappeared, only to return and breathe mouthwash on me … I didn’t know it at the time but it was a hint.

Well, while we were cooking breakfast, Mr W. politely informed me that I have bad morning breath.  The penny dropped … “so that’s why you were avoiding me in bed huh”.  “Yep, I can’t stand it, it disgusts me!”.  I retorted “but I have to put up with your ass, the least you could do is put up with a bit of bad breath!”.  Mr W. not so politely told me that I didn’t have to kiss his ass.  Hmmm, depends on which way you look at it really.

But it did give me an idea.  Everytime Mr W. breaks wind, I’m going to breathe on him.  Yep, childish I know, but that’s the way we roll in this household.  I mean come on, some of the “terms of endearment” we use for each other would astound normal people I’m sure.  You should see the looks we get at Woolies.  It really is true love I tell you.

Now, this is not the first time that Mr W. has broached this rather delicate subject with me.  Early on in our relationship, he sat me down on the side of the bed and ever so diplomatically (and I use the term loosely) told me that I had bad morning breath.  Of course first he told me to promise that I would not be offended and then told me he loved me afterwards … so clearly this was early on, we were still being rather polite to one another lol.   I do remember ever so politely telling him (again) that I put up with the decidedly horrendous wafts that come from the depths of his below (really that was sooooo polite), however perhaps he could turn the little minty fresh mints into minty fresh breezes by using said breath mints as suppositories.

Anyway, this little tale doesn’t have a neat little ending, but more a sinister laugh at me trying to think of ways to taunt Mr W. with my apparently bad morning breath.  Although I would love to meet the person whose breath smells minty fresh at 6am.

So Mr W., here’s an idea, in light of the breath mint suppositories previously suggested, perhaps a colonic irrigation using mouthwash is on the cards?

Love ya.

pp xx

It’s Mrs W. to You!

Hello!  It’s been a while … but some recent rest and relaxation have given me the inspiration I need to come back to my “old” PP blog.  Where to start?  There is a bit to catch up on before I start telling you tales from my somewhat interesting life in the Pilbara.

Well … first things first … I’m now Mrs W.  That’s right Mr W. & I tied the knot.  Unfortunately due to unforeseen circumstances it wasn’t our “Home Valley Station” Cowboy Wedding, but it was beautiful all the same.  In January of last year my gorgeous Mum was diagnosed with malignent melanoma and by April we got the feeling that waiting until September to get married would be too late to have Mum there with us.  So one night over a few glasses of wine we made the decision to change the wedding from 3rd September to 15th June … a Wednesday, perfect day for a wedding!  In fact we pretty much organised the whole thing in just four weeks.  I still had my dream dress, it was just minus the cowboy boots.  We swapped boab trees for water … and not just the ocean … there was a massive storm the day we got married, it was so wet we nearly didn’t get to have photos outside!  Apparently that’s good luck though … a wet knot is harder to untie, or something like that.  But best of all, I got to have my Mum at our wedding.

But of course it didn’t go off without a few mishaps … what with my Dad and brother getting Mr W. absolutely blind the night before the wedding (although he probably didn’t need much help) and the fact that our beach wedding turned into getting married in the Surf Lifesaving Club as it was too wet and cold to stand outside.  Yep, about 11pm the night before our wedding I had a phone call from Mr W.’s phone, except it didn’t sound like Mr W. and I had no hesitation in telling whoever it was that had stolen his phone to get a life and quit bugging me.  But the next morning I found out that it actually was my darling husband to be and now he had the world’s biggest hangover.  So I spent the morning bawling my eyes out wondering if he was actually going to be standing at the end of the aisle at 3pm that afternoon.  Turns out he was, albeit very seedy and shaking like a leaf.  Thanks honey, I’ll remember that one.

And so, the past six months have been a rollercoaster of emotion … three weeks after our wedding my dear Mum passed away.  So you can imagine I really haven’t felt much like blogging.  But, Mum wouldn’t want me to not write and so after 10 glorious nights with Mr W. in Broome Town, it’s time to start recounting tales of the Pilbara Princess and her adventures with Mr W.

Stay tuned folks …

pp xx